secrets lie
by badguthrie
Summary: Allura, Keith, Lance, Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk form a team called Voltron, a government agency started during the Cold War, now set on correcting the wrongs of the Galra. However, after Shiro was rescued and when he joined Voltron, the team discovers there's a deeper plot at hand. One that stretches as far as the assassination of the Holt family and disappearance of Katie Holt.


It was an easy get-in, get-out. And it was. Easy, that is. They'd chosen a time where they knew he would be in a meeting with his commanders, which meant security would be centered around them. It was also a Sunday, which meant several of the soldiers got the evening off to go to Church. Security was always lighter on Sundays.

He huddled in his cell, purple hues clouding his vision, clutching his arms - one flesh and blood, the other foreign and cold. He couldn't decide if it would be better to rip it off or keep it, because he might need two arms one day. Oh, well. His head hurt too much to think about it. The cuffs cut too hard through his skin, like they were choking him out.

(It was an easy get-in, get-out. And it was. Easy, that is.)

Suddenly, without warning, two people appeared in front of him. The door was still closed, still locked. Guards murmured outside the metal.

The two figures were cloaked and silent. The first, a quite small being, leaned down and began working on his handcuffs.

"What -" he began, but the other raised a finger to their lips.

"We're not them," whispered the one unbinding him. He took this as "we're on your side. We're saving you."

 _Saving you._

He pulled against the person's grasp, heart pounding. _What what what what what._

The taller one, lean but muscular, kicked his foot.

"We'll keep them on you if you keep struggling," they said. Their voice was more masculine, but he couldn't tell with the smaller one.

" _Agent Green, how's it going,"_ he heard coming from the person who knelt beside him's ear.

"Almost done," they muttered. There was an audible _click!_ as the last of the metal bonds became undone, and his jaw dropped. How - only the Galra had the tech to unlock _Galran_ tech. Not some - not some stranger who claimed they _weren't_ Galran.

"Let's go," said the taller one. A boy? A man? He couldn't tell. "On your feet."

"What -"

" _Shut up!"_ said the smaller one of his… rescuers? He wasn't sure.

Gunfire sounded somewhere outside his cell, whether it be close by or far away.

His heart wouldn't stop racing.

" _Agent Green, Red, get out of there!"_ came the voice again. More feminine, with a hint of British. Regal.

"Coming," said who he presumed to be Agent Blue. "Green, hoist him up."

"No!" Agent Green protested. "He's, like, three times my height and weight!"

" _Stop bickering and hurry!"_ said the voice again.

"Fine," Agent Red muttered. "You get up first, then I'll help him, then you pull me up."

"Whatever."

He blinked rapidly, slowly standing. They seemed so… childish, with their bickering, the way they speak. Then again, they managed to infiltrate a Galra headquarters and save (save?) him without alerting the guards outside his cell.

Whatever.

He watched as the first cloaked person easily jump and pull themselves up to the ceiling, where a beautifully circular circle was burned through the metal. He reluctantly let the other hoist him up. The shaft vent was narrow and rectangular, hot and compact, but it was a way out.

Right?

 _Months and months and weeks and weeks and days and days of this purple prison._

"Let's go," said Agent Red, in a louder, more commanding voice. "Agent White, we're on our way."

Agent White must've said something in response because Agent Green confirmed they had him in their grasp.

"We'll be there soon," they promised, and - while slightly panicking and unable to control his breathing - he followed them through the vents.

A jet awaited them in the infamous hangar where he had heard several assassinations take place before.

 _Scream._

 _Scream._

 _Scream._

Two other people held off the advancing guards as the three of them sprinted towards the craft.

"Green, Red, you got him?" shouted a stocky man weilding what looked like an assault rifle. The other, a taller and leaner man who's frame resembled Red's, had what was like a sharpshooter gun slung over his back and was keeping the others from advancing with a handheld gun.

"Yep," Agent Red said, breathless.

"Can someone explain to me what's going on?" he shouted.

 _His heart was a drum, and he had heard the metaphor before but it was a metaphor it didn't actually happen but he couldn't help but feel the thump thump thump_

"Just get to the jet," Green growled.

He broke through what felt like a particle-barrier, as if he stepped through a sheet of cool water, and as soon as he stepped foot onto the ramp that led to the belly, the sharpshooter gave the order to retreat.

It was over in three minutes. The jet (it wasn't even a jet, really - it was small, with paper-like wings and a dark metal coating.) was 12.3 miles away in under thirty seconds.

He leaned against the wall of the jet, his breath coming in heaving gasps. The four cloaked figures watched him. _Who was piloting the craft?_

His question was answered when a tall, dark-skinned woman with unusually light hair approached him from the cockpit. _The source of the voice,_ he assumed.

"Takashi Shirogane," she said, head held high.

"Shiro," Shiro managed.

She smiled faintly. "You're welcome."

A few minutes later, he was seated in one of the booths, the woman sitting in front of him, Red by her side. The stocky one sat next to Shiro while the other was on her opposite side. Green slouched in the corner, fiddling with some piece of Galra tech they must've snagged.

Their cloaks were all off now. The big guy was as Shiro assumed - stocky, but mostly made of muscle. He had a yellow bandana wrapped around his dark hair. He looked Hawaiian, but what did Shiro know? He'd never gone to Hawaii. Red looked Japanese, like Shiro, and the guy beside the woman looked Hispanic or Cuban. He couldn't tell with Agent Green, though - all he could see was a botched ginger haircut, messy and somewhat curly that reached to the jawline, and circular glasses that reminded him of someone he couldn't quite remember.

They were all decorated with scars. Sharpshooter had a scar running down his jaw and a few around his neck. Red had what looked to be a burn scar on his shoulder. Yellow bandana guy had a few around his legs. Green had multiple scars painted across her arms and legs, ones that resembled stab wounds.

"So," said the woman, "I'm sure you're wondering what the hell is going on."

"You're kids," Shiro blurted. "You're - you're children!"

"Hey!" cried the Cuban. "I'm 17, for your information. Kei-Agent Red is 18, and so is Agent Yellow! Agent White is 23. It's Pidge who's a kid."

"Hey!" Agent Green shouted. "I'm not a kid."

"You're fourteen, Pidge."

"Agent Green," Agent White began tentatively, shutting the 17-year-old up, "is our youngest recruit."

"Recruit?" Shiro echoed. "They're - they're _fourteen?"_

"I'm not a kid," Green (Pidge?) repeated.

Agent White sighed, like the two of them had gone through this before countless times. They probably had.

"Anyways, I'm sure you're wondering what's going on," she said. "We are Voltron."

"What?"

"Allura, can we trust him?" the Cuban asked.

"I mean, I guess we can, 'cause you keep saying our real names," Red mumbled, arms folded. The Cuban glared.

"We can," Allura said, her voice soft. "You know why Coran sent us on that mission." She cleared her throat and smiled. "But let's begin with introductions first, then. My name is Allura Altea. I lead this team."

"Team?"

"We're getting to that."

Shiro squirmed in his seat. He imagined the how high he was in the jet, how many feet of the ground, how many miles, the pointed tip cutting through air -

"I'm Agent Blue, or Lance MccLain," said the Cuban, flashing a grin. "I'm the sharpshooter."

"Hunk Garret," offered the stocky kid. "Agent Yellow. I dabble in weapon design, weapon production, and lethal toxins."

"Lethal toxins?"

"I poison people," he explained. Shiro blinked.

"Oh."

Lance laughed slapped his knee.

"Jeez, I get such a kick out of that line."

"I'm Agent Red," Red said, looking like he didn't want to be there. "Keith Kogane. I uh, run on-field missions and stuff."

"He likes knives," offered Hunk. Shiro raised his eyebrows.

Green cleared their throat (Shiro still couldn't figure out if they were a he or a she). "My name is P-Pidge Gunderson," they stammered, sharing a glance with Allura. Shiro narrowed his eyes. "Agent Green. I hack Galran files, run tech and on-field missions."

"Against my wishes," Allura sniffed. Shiro could barely see their face, but he was sure they rolled their eyes.

"Right," said Shiro. "So. Um. What's going on?"

"As I said, we are Voltron," Allura continued. "An agency set on destroying the Galra along with any of the affiliations."

"And anyone who's trying to mess with the balance of things," Lance offered. "And what I mean is -"

"People who are trying to disrupt the peace," Hunk interrupted.

"Earth isn't peaceful at all, though," Shiro inquired. Hunk shrugged.

"Terrorists, then."

"Are you guys like… assassins? Kid agents? Killers?"

They all looked uncomfortable at the word 'killers', save for Allura. She nodded curtly. "Yes, I suppose. My father, Alfor, lead the previous team, except after the Cold War there really wasn't that much to be protected. However, what people call the 'Galra Empire' began to rise, much like Soviet Russia. It escalated after the assassination of the Holts - Colleen Holt, Samuel Holt, their son Matthew Holt, and the disappearance of their daughter Katie Holt."

Shiro froze.

The names sounded familiar.

 _Holt, Holt, Holt._

 _Matthew._

 _Sam._

 _Colleen._

 _(She made him croissants Saturday mornings.)_

"Oh," he said. His voice was hoarse.

"You, Shiro, were affiliated with them," said Allura. "I'm not sure if you remember or not. Do you?"

"Not really," Shiro confessed. Allura nodded.

"Yes. Well, um, that's when the Galra held you as prisoner, in one of their headquarters."

"Where?"

"We can't tell you that, Shiro," she said.

"Why - why did you rescue me? Why are you telling me these things? If you're some secret government agency, won't you have to kill me because you've told me everything?"

"Not everything," Allura corrected. "You need privileges for that."

Shiro was dumbfounded.

This made no sense.

The sound of a bird smashing against the window caused them all to startle and glance at the cockpit.

"How do I get those?"

"By joining the team," said Keith.

Shiro was dumbfounded.

(Still.)

"Oh. Uh. Sorry, what?"

"You were a soldier, Shiro," Allura pressed. "I'm sure you can remember. A leader. You will be an excellent addition to Voltron."

"I'm sorry," Shiro said, standing. "But I just don't understand. You - you're asking me to become a killer? Someone who fights what, some few evil guys in the shadows? I literally was just rescued from a Galran prison, and now you're - you're -"

"They aren't just a few measly 'evil guys in the shadows,' Takashi Shirogane," Allura snapped, standing as well and barely matching Shiro's height. "I don't think you understand the gravitude of the Holt assassination and how it has affected _everything._ The Galra are more powerful then ever before, they are building tech and weapons that we can only imagine, they are sending threat after threat to countries all over the world - Shiro. I'm sorry this is so sudden. But - well. We're running out of time." She pauses. Let it sink in.

 _(The names sounded so familiar.)_

 _(He laughed with them once, he thinks.)_

 _(We're running out of time.)_

"Shiro," she said again. "Please. We're - we might seem skilled, but the members of the Voltron Coalition are wavering. The Galra have infiltrated our ranks. We're the only active team left. We need someone new. Someone strong. I can almost never send Pidge out, it's too dangerous."

"No it's not," Pidge muttered.

"Be quiet, Pidge," Keith said.

"'Be quiet, Pidge,'" Pidge mocked.

 _These kids are assassins?_ Shiro thought.

And then he said it.

He didn't even think about it. It was as if someone had forced the words out. He didn't think, he just did.

"Yes. Okay. Yes."

 _(Too much too much too much.)_

 _(The croissants were baked with chocolate-chips, just how he liked it.)_

 _(Afternoons in front of the television.)_

Lance and Hunk reached across to high-five each other. Keith grinned. Allura beamed and held out her hand, and Shiro took it.

Pidge was silent.

Shiro leaned in. "Is he okay?" he murmured, gesturing to Pidge.

"He's a she," Pidge said, standing up. Shiro glanced at her.

(She looked so angry.)

"Apologies," he said, nodding. "I - I couldn't tell. Damn, that sounds douchey."

"It does," Lance said. Keith punched his arm.

"Pidge usually acts as a boy in the field," Allura explained. "That's why her hair is cut so short, and she's usually cloaked or wearing sunglasses or a hat. And why I'm so anxious about her going out, she being so young."

"The Galra don't care how old you are if you're caught," Pidge said loosely. "A girl in the field is unheard of. People get curious. I mean, Allura's almost never in the field, so that leaves me."

Shiro's eyes widened. Keith cleared his throat.

"Only Allura cares how old I am," Pidge continued, slightly laughing.

"Pidge, that's not true," Lance muttered. "You're like, a baby compared to us."

"Call me a baby again and I'll slit your throat, MccLain." They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

 _Thank God. I didn't know she was even capable of laughing._

"But seriously," Pidge said.

She hadn't looked in his eyes yet.

"I made my first kill when I was eleven."

"Fun," Shiro murmured. Pidge smirked and looked away.

"Allura, I have to - do stuff," she said. She nodded.

"Right. Of course, um, Pidge. Go."

The fourteen-year-old ducked away.

"Pidge can get pretty morbid sometimes," Hunk explained.

"She's only speaking the truth," Keith said, shrugging. Allura glared at him. "What?"

"This, uh, has been interesting," Shiro said, clearing his throat.

"You have a lot to think about, yes," Allura said. "Our next mission is at 0400 hours, Tuesday."

"That's only in two days," Shiro said.

"Right. A long length of time, I know. I think Coran is giving us a break. Hunk, can you check on our location?"

"Sure thing."

"We have an apartment in New York City where we spend our downtime," Allura explained. "The view's an alleyway, but it's cozy."

"Fancy," Shiro noted. Lance smirked.

"There's a bar, a jacuzzi, babes -"

"Lance," Allura interrupted. Lance chuckled.

"It's more of a pleasant townhouse apartment," she corrected. "Pidge and I both have our own rooms. Lance, Hunk, and Keith share a room. I'm sure they'd be delighted to have you bunk with them, but there might be space in the living area."

"I'd be fine rooming with them if it's okay," Shiro said.

 _(His mind was still reeling.)_

 _(He hadn't fully processed what was going on.)_

 _(He'd only been rescued from his purple prison less than an hour ago.)_

 _(Was this the exhilaration?)_

 _(Hopefully he wouldn't regret it in the morning.)_

They abandoned their jet in the middle of Central Park (while cloaked, of course. One designed by Pidge.), then took a cab to their apartment. How odd they must've looked - four teenagers and two adults, all with their own scars, their own past, their own demons.

It was… not the biggest apartment.

The ceilings weren't too low, and there was a modern(ish) kitchen off to the side, a couch and a couple chairs surrounding a moderate-sized television and fairy lights strung up around the chimney. Small, narrow windows that looked over a beautiful view over a brick wall.

As soon as they go there, Pidge made a beeline for her room. Lance and Hunk plopped down on the couch and instantly turned on the TV, Keith grabbed a Coca-Cola from the fridge, Allura got a bag of smartfood, and the two of them spoke together by the table.

 _They're kids_ , Shiro thought.

Lance laughed at the cartoon on the TV.

Shiro could make out more scars along the back of his neck and extending down his spine. His gun was still slung over his back.

Something crashed in the next room, probably Pidge dropped something, and Keith flinched and reached for his knife.

PTSD.

Allura clenched and unclenched her fist as she spoke with Keith and tapped her foot relentlessly.

A long scar traced from her collarbone down to her wrist.

Hunk took apart his gun and put it back together, and again, and again, and again, nodding his head along.

Shiro joined the two on the couch, wincing as his old wounds acted up again. The cushions felt like a fantasy after weeks sitting on cold metal.

"Uh, guys, I know we literally just met and I literally just joined your team, but do you know what's up with the kid? Pidge, I think? She seems so…."

"Angry," Hunk finished. "Yeah."

He exchanged glances with Lance, and Agent Blue shrugged.

"We can tell him," Hunk said. "He's on our team now, I guess."

"Pidge lost her family," he explained. "Me, I only left them. A big one, back in Cuba, where my mom would give the best hugs and make the best pastries, and I would play football with my brothers every afternoon, and it would rain at night and in the morning -"

"Lance," said Hunk.

"Right. Yeah. Just a little homesick. Anyways, Pidge lost her family."

"That's horrible," Shiro whispered. Lance shrugged.

"We've all lost people."

"Too many," Hunk added, and they both chuckled.

 _Dear God,_ Shiro thought, _what have these two been through._

"Lost as in… they disappeared?" Shiro asked. Lance shrugged again.

He shrugged a lot.

"You could say."

"Did she find them?"

"She did," Hunk said. "They were killed. She was attacked afterwards too, but we got to her first. She was badly hurt."

"Badly," added Lance. Hunk nodded.

"Yeah. Anyway, her attacker left, thinking she was dead. She wasn't, though. Then we found her. We were all younger, at the time. Still training. Never going on high-risk missions. She was, what, eleven? Twelve?"

"I dunno," Lance replied. "Eleven, I think. That's when she made her first kill. I, however, made mine at age _ten -"_

They seemed to cool and calm with this.

"So we cleaned up her family's blood and hid her away, and we trained. But don't bring this up with her," Hunk warned. "She won't be happy about it." He stood. "Do you guys want dinner?" he shouted. Allura clapped her hands.

"Can we have spaghetti and milkshakes?" she called back. Hunk gave her a thumbs up in response.

His assault rifle was laying on the bed.

Lance was still watching the cartoon.

Pidge yelled " _dammit!"_ in the next room and kicked something.

"Language!" Keith yelled back.

"Shut up!" she replied. They all laughed.

Suddenly the cartoon switched to black and a low hum came through the speakers. A man appeared on the screen, ginger hair edged with gray and a moustache Shiro declared the best moustache he'd ever seen. The paladins, however, were silent as the man began to speak, and Pidge wandered out back into the living room.

"Agents," the man began. "I see you've acquired Takashi Shirogane."

"Shiro," Shiro said. The man's eyes flickered over to him.

"Right. Well, uh, Shiro, you now report as Agent Black. Agent Yellow will see to your choice of weapons. Agent White -" he turned to Allura "- the mission has to happen before sunrise. Can you do it?"

"Coran, who are you asking?" Allura replied dryly. Coran huffed out what sounded like a feeble laugh.

"Right. Well, get to it. I'm sending the information to Agent Green."

"Got it," Pidge said, pulling out a tablet. Coran nodded.

"Wonderful. Now, go on agents. This one should be a doozy."

"How so?" Shiro asked. Coran winked and the screen returned to the cartoon.

Allura turned to Shiro.

"Are you ready, Agent Black?"

Shiro swallowed.

"Sure."


End file.
